Harry Potter and the Lord of Immortality
by Better Two Thirds
Summary: CHAPTER 3 UP! Harry's sixth year could be his final one as Voldemort and his army grow stronger yet...But Harry has a few tricks up his sleeve. Someone unexpected returns as the final battle approaches... HarryGinny&RonHermione.  Book six, AU.
1. The Ceremony

**Disclaimer**: Although it might appear so, The Better Two Thirds do not, nor ever will, own Harry Potter.

**A/N**: The Better Two Thirds would like to tell you that this story follows Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and that this is not a derailed Half Blood Prince, but a story of its own. Any similarities are due to previous direction from the first five books.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue:  
****The Ceremony**

_The night was young and the air was relatively warm as two figures strutted quickly along the cliff's edge. They seemed to wander aimlessly for several moments before the taller of the two looked toward the sky. His voice came out high and cold and seemed to pierce the very air into which he spoke. "Lucius, three planets will align tonight—soon—and the ceremony can begin."_

"_Ceremony, my Lord?"_

"_Oh, yes, because ritual has such a negative connotation, and this is a beautiful event. And you will help me with it." His red eyes remained fixed to the stars above. "You shall be rewarded extremely well, my loyal Death Eater." _

_Lucius immediately began to think of the power he would have as Lord Voldemort's right-hand man. His excitement must have shown, for Voldemort's gray lips contorted into a wicked smile and he said, "I see you like what I have proposed."_

"_Oh yes, my Lord," he said eagerly._

_Voldemort once again looked into the sky. "As you know, I have always sought immortality. I have tried so hard to attain it, Lucius. It has taken me years to come up with this plan. Ever since we started using Dementors in our war, I have had this idea of how to become immortal in my head. Because you see, Lucius, Dementors are immortal. Nothing can kill them. After tonight, nothing will be able to kill me, either."_

_Malfoy gazed admiringly at his brilliant master as he rattled on about immortality. He spoke so passionately. After minutes, Voldemort said, "It is time."_

_He quickly instructed Malfoy of his role. It was simple, but very necessary. "I need you to wake me up; a simple __rennervate__ should do the trick. However, if you do not, I will fall into a deep sleep and lay comatose indefinitely. Remember the power and authority you will have, Lucius!"_

_Malfoy sensed that the Dark Lord was using Legilimency on him, but he didn't mind. He had nothing to hide—he was merely dreaming of the wealth and power he would have in due time. Again, Voldemort smiled and said, "Good."_

_For the last time, Voldemort looked to the sky and closed his eyes. He began muttering an incantation while waving his wand. His dark, heavy cloak swayed with him as he continued to gesticulate. Eventually, a snakelike object emerged from the tip of his wand. Out of the snake's mouth came a bright orange light that shot away from the cliff's edge and into what looked like a small town where Lucius could see cloaked people wandering the streets. The light seemed to illuminate the small population, but they paid it no mind. It was as if they couldn't even see it. Soon, the bright orange light receded and the snake seemed to eat it. Then, the snake rotated and twisted into the air, and shot the same orange light directly into Voldemort's chest. The Dark Lord gasped and his eyes shot open, though they did not see. After several long agonizing moments for Malfoy, as he wondered of his master's wellbeing, the light once again receded. Voldemort's wand stopped moving, and as the snake turned skyward, towards the aligned planets, Voldemort fell backwards, landing stiffly on his back. To Malfoy, the snake seemed to stare into space for hours, though it was probably minutes, until it finally rotated downwards and burrowed into the ground, leaving no physical trace of its existence._

_Malfoy waited for a long time, to ensure that nothing else would happen and that the ceremony was, indeed, over. He then shakily raised his wand and said, "__Rennervate__!"_

_His master's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled wickedly. "It worked. I can…feel it," he whispered, not speaking to Malfoy. He quickly stood up and turned to the loyal and trustworthy servant at his side._

"_Ah, Malfoy. You shall officially receive your reward when you are married to Narcissa Black."_

"_In just two weeks then?" Malfoy asked eagerly._

"_Yes, Lucius," Lord Voldemort replied. "In two weeks…" Voldemort slowly raised his wand as he felt the newly acquired power surge through him. He no longer required the services of the one who called himself a Death Eater. Lord Voldemort smiled as he lifted and aimed his wand at Lucius Malfoy, who stood directly before him. A look of confusion shot across the poor man's face before his master shouted, "Obliviate!" And all he could feel was the overwhelming sensation of loss._

Lucius Malfoy awoke from his dream with a start. He looked down at his wife, sleeping next to him. His hand instinctively went to his head. "I…remember."


	2. The Inevitability of Change

**Chapter One:  
****The Inevitability of Change**

"You realize you cannot discuss anything that has happened here, or you will instantly die?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now go, and don't waste this opportunity."

"Believe me. I won't screw this up."

-0-0-0-

Harry Potter sat at the foot of the stairs. Anxious, he kept glancing at his watch and then at the door. He was waiting for his headmaster, the one to whom Harry had released his pent up emotions just last year. Harry now suffered regret over what he had done and couldn't help but feel nervous about his impending reunion with the brilliant wizard.

Harry steeled himself as the doorbell rang. He heard his uncle shout, "Boy, get the door!"

Of course, he hadn't told his relatives he'd have a visitor…a fun one at that. He couldn't help but smile as he swung open the door. Standing before him was the greatest wizard, and greatest man, that Harry had ever encountered.

"Ah, Harry, it is great to see you smiling," Dumbledore said, smiling genuinely back at him.

A shout from the living room came, "Who is it boy?"

Dumbledore's eye twinkled. "And the reason for the smile?" he said, raising his eyebrows at where the voice had come from.

Harry grinned guiltily and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll just grab my things, then."

After Harry had raced upstairs, grabbed his trunk, and dragged it down the stairs, he found Dumbledore in the living room, chatting pleasantly to the bug-eyed Dursleys seated next to him. "…much more modern than the last time I was here."

"Sir, I'm ready," he announced.

"Come, sit down, Harry," Dumbledore said, motioning to the couch. He turned to the Dursleys. "Could you excuse us, please?"

A vein that Harry had not seen from his earlier vantage point bulged on his uncle's forehead. "Us?" he exclaimed. "Excuse you? In my own house!"

With composure, Dumbledore replied, "Yes, please. I have some matters I would like to discuss with your nephew."

Petunia and Dudley seemed to be fine with that answer and promptly left the room. It was only after several long moments of Dumbledore returning Vernon Dursley's glare with a calm gaze that Vernon reluctantly joined his wife and son.

At last, Dumbledore returned his attention back to Harry. "If you don't mind me asking, Harry, how are you?" Dumbledore asked with more sincerity and meaning than Harry would have liked.

For a moment, all was quiet aside from a small creak in the entryway. Finally Harry answered, "I'm okay. It's been tough these past couple weeks here, but I've been thinking a lot. I've decided that I need to fight, and I need to live on and be happy. I think that's what Sirius would've wanted me to do, anyway."

A gravelly voice came from the living room entrance. "You are spot on there."

Harry turned his head and blinked hard. "Sirius?" he said bewilderedly, not believing Dumbledore could play such a cruel trick on him. He wanted to look up at Dumbledore and see his expression, but he feared that if he did, Sirius might disappear again. However, he mustered the energy and managed to tear his gaze away from Sirius' grinning face.

For the first time, Harry saw a look of shock flash upon his headmaster's visage. His wand was out, though it dropped a fraction in his hand. And at that moment, Harry knew that the scene before him was no illusion: Sirius was truly back. Dumbledore's expression confirmed it, and the look of confusion was his inability to explain it. Quickly, though, his expression changed to that of amusement. "Nice of you to join us, Sirius."

Harry rushed forward and embraced his godfather in a hug. He didn't care about how or when or any other question related to Sirius' return. He simply allowed relief to flow through him; relief that his godfather was alive and well, relief that he could share more precious moments with Sirius, and finally relief that Sirius would be there for him in his greatest time of need. After a few seconds, Harry released him and grinned.

Sirius cleared his throat and said, "You didn't think they could keep me in, did you?" He even managed a smirk.

Dumbledore tentatively entered the conversation, quickly glancing at Harry to make sure it was alright to intrude on the moment. "One has to wonder how you managed to escape, Sirius."

Sirius made a clicking noise with his mouth. "Well, 'one' might have to have their question go unanswered. You see, I'm not allowed to speak about it or…" With his hand, he drew a line across his throat; his mouth twisted into an exaggerated frown and he made yet another clicking noise.

Harry smiled. "We wouldn't want that to happen _again_, now would we?"

-0-0-0-

The three sat at Grimmauld Place, gazing at Kreacher. Sirius had a murderous glint in his eye, one that Dumbledore did not like to see.

Although, he did have to admit he was pleasantly surprised to find Sirius back and alive. No, surprised was not the right word, Dumbledore decided. Shocked? Stunned? Maybe, but all of them didn't quite fit the description.

Of course, Dumbledore hadn't believed it at first. For several seconds he had cast several revealing charms, but all of them confirmed that it was, indeed, the thought-to-be deceased Sirius Black.

Dumbledore put an end to the period of silence. "Of course, you could have him killed…"

"Then that's what I'll do!"

"…but," Dumbledore continued, as if Sirius hadn't interrupted him, "I hope that now can be a time when you are able to admit your mistakes and, more importantly, learn from them." He frowned at Kreacher, who was bound and gagged at Sirius' command.

"There was no mistake on my part, Albus. The traitor deserved to be treated like dirt!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "He was only a traitor _because _he was treated like dirt, Sirius."

Sirius rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Harry, who spoke for the first time. "Look, Sirius. Dumbledore's usually right. I think you need to listen to him and swallow your pride. Give this a try. Like he said," Harry began, motioning to Dumbledore, "Learn from our mistakes."

Dumbledore smiled at his student, though Harry meant much more to Dumbledore than just a pupil. That had been his own mistake, but he wasn't about to learn from it. Dumbledore then turned to Sirius to gauge his reaction and once again smiled; Dumbledore knew Harry had gotten to him.

Sirius had a look of trepidation on him. "Look…I'll try. But if it doesn't work…"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and peered at Sirius over his half-moon glasses. Slowly, he nodded in the house-elf's direction.

"Right," Sirius sighed. "Kreacher, I am sorry I forced you to bind and gag yourself. I ask you kindly to take it all off." After a moment in which nothing happened, Sirius hurriedly added, "Please." It obviously cost him a lot of energy to do so.

Immediately after all the binding had been removed from Kreacher's body, the miserly house-elf began screaming about blood traitors and his sorry excuse for a master. Sirius groaned and shot Dumbledore a look of displeasure.

"It's going to take some time, Sirius," the wise old wizard said; he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

-0-0-0-

Sirius Black was not entirely sure himself how he was able to return. But he knew two things: He was never going to speak of it to anyone, and he was not going to ruin this chance. His first order of business would be with Harry. He was the boy's godfather, and to his knowledge, he had yet to do many godfather-like things. And Dumbledore had mentioned training Harry to be a stronger wizard, so he decided to concentrate on that first.

However, at the moment, he was catching up on his two lost weeks.

"So no one has died from the Order?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Not anymore, no." Sirius smirked before Dumbledore continued. "So far, we have been able to keep up with his attacks, though only just. There have been several muggle attacks that we have been too late to prevent, and they have suffered greatly. Fortunately, however, we are on top of most everything else.

"The Dementors have officially joined Voldemort, and the giants are generally on his side as well. However, we have been able to convince over two thirds of the werewolves to remain indifferent about the war, joining neither side. We can thank Remus for that."

"And I've been cleared?" Sirius asked optimistically.

"Of course you have been," Harry piped up. "It was the first thing Fudge did in an attempt to keep his job."

"And did it work?"

Harry shrugged. "For now, but it's all a matter of time. Don't you think, Professor?"

Dumbledore fingered his long beard. "Yes, I agree. At the very most, only through the year. People know the Ministry isn't stopping Voldemort, and they will act according to the progression of the war. As soon as a major death occurs, I very much think he will be replaced."

"So basically, Voldemort is gaining power, we are barely keeping up, and the ministry is doing next to nothing?"

"Sadly, yes."

Sirius nodded. "Sounds like last time. Only this time, Harry's a bit older, and it seems more plausible that he can take down Voldemort." He had been speaking in a joking manner, but the steely expression that crossed over Harry's face did not escape him.

Dumbledore immediately interjected. "So, Harry, are you ready to go to the Burrow?"

-0-0-0-

"I can stay here with Sirius, though. I mean, I'd like to go to the Burrow, too, but I'll help out here all I can."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to do now that the shock of his returned godfather passed. Did they pick up where they had left off? Harry wasn't even certain where they had left off. He was surprised at how little he knew Sirius, and that was one of the biggest reasons why he wanted to stay at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius frowned, matching Harry's expression. "I'm more than willing to let him stay here."

Dumbledore explained himself. "I had plans for Harry, this summer, to go to the Burrow, but to make frequent trips here to meet me…and have special classes throughout the summer. First of all, the Weasleys are too excited to have him stay there to disrupt the plans now. Second, you will be seeing a lot of Harry, if he agrees to come here as often as I want him to."

Sirius looked at Harry and they both shrugged their approval, acknowledging that it was a good plan.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Very well, then. Let's go. We might as well spread the good news of Sirius' return to the Weasleys first."

Together they all stood up and made their way to the front door. Harry followed them, not paying much attention to their direction, his thoughts primarily focused on Sirius' return. Dumbledore spoke to them as he turned the knob. "We'll apparate from the front step. Harry, if you'll just grab my arm again..."

However, Dumbledore stopped short as he swung open the large door. "It appears as if we have some unexpected visitors," he said quietly, pointing into the distance. Sure enough, two Death Eaters stood a far way off. One was watching headquarters very closely while the other juggled a series of oranges. Harry allowed a small smile to cross his face, but shook his head, remembering that these were cold-blooded killers.

Sirius barked a laugh and said, "I'll take the juggler, Albus. I assume you can handle the lookout?"

Sounding rather uncommitted, Dumbledore said, "Oh, alright."

Quite stunned by their sudden action, Harry watched silently as the two wizards rushed out the door. Dumbledore shot a stunner right from the doorstep that landed itself directly into the chest of the alert Death Eater, who promptly fell to the ground with a thud.

Sirius, not quite as confident in his aiming skills, ran several more steps before shooting his own target down. The juggler fell quickly, his oranges crashing down around him shortly afterward.

Still not believing what he was seeing, Harry cautiously stepped out to where the older men stood. "What…what just happened?" he asked incredulously.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "that was a training simulation. It's one of the first in a series of programs that I plan to make for you, Harry. We didn't actually go to the front door, but rather to a room much like that of the Room of Requirement. I assume you remember that Room, yes?" Harry nodded. Dumbledore continued, "This room is capable of great things, too, and I plan to put it to good use with you over the course of the summer."

Harry shook his head confusedly. "How come…I've never…Why didn't I notice this last year?"

Sirius chimed in. "Well, Dumbledore and I have been working on it since last Christmas, so you wouldn't have seen it. I don't know the specifics…but apparently, Dumbledore wants you to learn how to fight, Harry."

Harry smiled. It had been one of the things he had thought about during the summer. He wanted to fight too, and he was glad he was going to be given the chance to do so. Not to mention it was with Albus Dumbledore's permission, the most powerful wizard in the world. It seemed like he had gone through a lot of work and trouble to prepare this for him.

"That's good," Harry replied, "because I want to learn how to fight."

"After you've settled into The Burrow, I'll inform you of our schedule," said Dumbledore, who smiled at Harry approvingly.

-0-0-0-

Harry was excited as he walked toward the house that he could almost call home. He couldn't wait to see Ron's expression when he learned that Sirius was alive. He walked impatiently with the other two men, eager to reach The Burrow.

At last, they arrived at the door and Dumbledore knocked lightly. Almost immediately, Mrs. Weasley's welcome voice came from the other side, quite softly Harry noticed. "Who is it?" she asked.

"It is Albus Dumbledore, with Harry Potter and his thought-to-be-lost godfather."

There was a moment's silence before, "What! Sirius?!"

"Yes," Dumbledore said calmly. "It appears the man has escaped death just as he escaped punishment during much of his days at Hogwarts. Now, confirmations are in order."

Quickly, they each said something to confirm that they were, indeed, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and Sirius Black. After the door swung open, Mrs. Weasley pulled Sirius into a hug to the surprise of everyone, but none were surprised more than Sirius, who had thought himself to be generally disliked by the Weasley matron.

"It is so wonderful," Mrs. Weasley said. "One less casualty of the war…and Harry has his godfather back! Now that you're cleared, you can be a good influence on him."

"Right," Sirius said, with a small smile.

It was then that Mrs. Weasley remembered Harry. "Oh, yes, Harry my dear. Come in, come in."

-0-0-0-

"So where is Ron, anyway?" Ron heard Harry ask as he came down the stairs. Harry was rubbing his ribs and his stomach; the former from Mrs. Weasley's hugs and the latter from her dinner.

"I'm right here, mate." Ron walked into the kitchen. "We all thought you'd be here sooner. What took y-…" Ron trailed off as he looked up and saw Sirius, alive and well.

"Hey, Ron," Sirius said, nonchalantly. "How's Pig treating you?"

Ron realized his jaw was open as he answered questioningly, "Good?"

"Good to hear." Sirius grinned. "And Hermione?"

Harry let out a snort, and Ron couldn't believe he was having this conversation with the allegedly deceased Sirius Black in front of his headmaster, his mother, and his best mate (who, if he was honest with himself, Ron suspected might also fancy the girl he fancied).

Flustered, he could only say, "Good, I imagine…She'll be here in just a couple more weeks." His eyes were glued to Sirius. "What…how?" he muttered.

"Can't say," Harry interrupted. "Or else he'd die."

"Oh…," Ron said simply as he slouched into one of the chairs and grabbed a roll, shoving half of it into his mouth.

Ron watched as Ginny and the twins both greeted Harry and Sirius minutes later. He had to admit, he was surprised with how quickly they reacted to Sirius. The twins remarked about how only a Marauder could escape death after he died. Ron had to agree with them. Sirius must've had to talk pretty smoothly to be allowed back. Of course, no one knew how the other side worked aside from Sirius and, apparently, if he spoke about it, he'd die. While he at more food, Ron entertained himself with visions of Sirius sneaking past a guard to jump back through the veil. He grinned to himself.

Eventually, Dumbledore and Sirius bid farewell to Harry and the Weasleys Before they left, however, they informed Harry that they'd be in touch shortly. After Ron's mum finished forcing a rather large bite of chicken into Harry's mouth, Ron stood from his chair and said, "Come on, I'll help you with your stuff."

Ron walked over to Harry's small group of possessions and picked up Hedwig's empty cage, carrying it upstairs and leaving Harry with the heavy trunk. "Typical," he heard Ginny mutter to Harry.

-0-0-0-

Dumbledore nodded his head solemnly. "Yes, Sirius," he said, "it is that necessary."

The man with shaggy black hair frowned. He hadn't realized how important the situation was until now. "So what can I do, Dumbledore?" The direness in his voice did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore, who sat directly across from him. The dark atmosphere of Grimmauld Place seemed to mirror that of their conversation.

"We will continue in our efforts to train Harry. That is our main aspiration at the moment," the old wizard declared. "You and I will act as mentors to him. Meanwhile, we can summon the Order to discuss further arrangements."

"The Order?" Sirius repeated incredulously. "Does that mean not me…again? I can't just stand by while Voldemort's out there murdering innocent people, Dumbledore!" He caught himself getting out of his seat; his usually calm voice was now raised to a shout. He looked his former headmaster right in the eyes as he spoke sternly. "I can_not_ do nothing." There was a brief pause after his declaration.

"And you won't," Dumbledore replied as Sirius slowly sat back down. Through it all, Dumbledore somehow managed to remain calm. "Harry needs you, he needs his godfather. There's only so much I can do for him. The rest will be up to you."

Deep down, Sirius knew Dumbledore spoke the truth. _Don't waste this opportunity_, they had told him. He understood just what that opportunity meant, now. He was given a second chance for a reason, and that reason was not to get himself killed as he had before. No, Sirius knew he had to fight, just not in the literal sense. At least for now, and for Harry.

He recalled Dobby, the Malfoy's former house-elf who had been freed with Harry's help. After he became free, Dobby didn't know how to live on his own. Harry told Sirius how he tried giving him clothes and food, but the clothes and food only lasted so long. He said that providing Dobby with the resources themselves wasn't enough. What Dobby really needed was the knowledge associated with making food and getting clothes. The information would aid him for life, whereas the items themselves only helped him temporarily. And so Sirius discerned that he had the knowledge, the knowledge of magic that could aid in the destruction of the Dark Arts. He finally recognized that if the knowledge was passed along to others, it would be much more beneficial than if he simply kept it to himself.

After several minutes of rumination, Sirius finally spoke. "And what will become of Hogwarts?"

"School will remain open," Dumbledore responded. "I have no reason to think that the students are in any immediate danger by attending."

"What about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position? Have you found a replacement yet?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore pondered the question. "I plan to employ Severus, yes," he said.

"Severus?" Sirius said, bewildered. "Then what will happen to his Potions class?" The question was posed innocently enough and he paused to let Dumbledore think.

"Well," the headmaster began, "I hadn't much thought about it."

Sirius decided to make his move. "Well…what if you didn't have to?"

"What exactly are you proposing, Sirius?" Dumbledore inquired. It was obvious that he wasn't entirely sure he liked where the conversation was headed.

But Sirius had already made up his mind. "I can teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore. I know more than most wizards know. And more importantly, I'll be able to teach the students the skills they need to survive," he said. "There would be no wasted time spent on textbooks; I understand how real the danger is. The skills they would acquire could very well one day save their lives."

Sirius was getting more and more passionate about teaching, but Dumbledore seemed hesitant. "How will you be a part of Harry's training if you're busy teaching?"

"Simple," he said. "I have the whole summer to help him, plus he'd be in my classroom with the other students during the school year. It would be like training Harry, only instead of one-on-one assistance, I'll be training all the sixth years. Then of course we'd have lessons in the evenings. He'll be ahead of the other students, I imagine."

Dumbledore appeared to be rather fond of the idea. "Very well, then," he agreed. "Although, I'm afraid Severus will not be too pleased about this." Sirius couldn't help but beam at the thought of teaching at Hogwarts in only a few simple months. The fact that he had just swiped Snape's job from under his feet was an added bonus.

-0-0-0-

Harry awoke with the sun streaming into the room. It took a second for everything to register. Finally, he determined that he was in Ron's room and realized Dumbledore had come to get him the previous day, and…yes. He remembered, and got excited all over again: Sirius had inexplicably returned from the dead. Not to mention he, Harry, would be training with Albus Dumbledore to become a wizard worthy of the daunting task to finish Voldemort.

After all, he _had_ to kill Voldemort.

And with a resolve to be ready when the time came, Harry headed outside. He had thought about this too, during his two week stay at the Dursley's. Sure, it was more than necessary to learn additional magic, how to duel, how to act and react in certain circumstances. But it was also important, Harry had determined, to be physically ready as well. So when the time came, he could endure any amount of running, hiding, jumping, and the like.

And so it was with that that Harry began a steady run around the property of The Burrow. At first, it was relatively easy, fun even, as he watched gnomes attacking each other, fighting for spots in the garden. He couldn't help but gaze up at The Burrow whenever he had the chance. It was amazing what could happen in just five years, he thought. For a while, Harry reminisced. That is, until his side began to ache.

The remaining twenty minutes of his morning run were not pleasant, but Harry had made a promise to himself. He had to be ready, not only for his own protection, but also for the safety of his friends. He attempted to sigh at the idea, but his breathing was becoming too laborious to allow it. The thought that he would be the one to finish it all, to resuscitate the barely beating heart of the entire wizarding community, was almost too much to bear. It seemed preposterous; yet at the same time, it felt right. And at that moment, Harry collapsed on the ground, and all he could do was laugh. Unable to go on, with the laughter stealing his precious breath away from him, Harry was decidedly finished for the day.

Even after the laughter died down, Harry lay on his back for several minutes, breathing deeply. At last he caught his breath, though his heart continued pumping madly, like an incessant drum inside of him. He closed his eyes and let the sun glow warmly on his tired body. He was thankful for the much-needed rest. As he lay there, relaxed, Harry was somewhat startled to hear a voice interrupt his thoughts, which caused him to resolve to somehow sharpen his senses as well as his physique.

"Have a nice run?" Ginny asked, sitting down next to Harry.

After recovering from the startle, Harry sat up and laughed a little. "I wouldn't exactly use the word 'nice.' "

"Right." Ginny smiled. "I saw you collapse, and wanted to make sure you weren't dead. I had no idea you were this out of shape."

"Hey, I resent that!" Harry said, mockingly upset. "I'll have you know, I was running for well over half an hour before I collapsed in exhaustion."

"But why?" Ginny asked, as though running was the dumbest thing anybody would willingly do.

"Because, Ginny," he began, motioning to himself, "I am 'this out of shape.' "

Ginny laughed and they fell into a companionable chat for a while, both gazing at the morning sky, occasionally pointing out a cloud shape, or a bird or animal traveling around The Burrow. "That one looks like a kneazel," Ginny said, pointing to a peculiarly shaped cloud overhead.

Harry stared at it for a long moment. "You're kidding me, right?" He looked over at her, to find her suppressing a smile. "It looks more like Hagrid's blast-ended screwts after exploding _next to_ a kneazel than a kneazel."

"I have a vibrant imagination, believe me. I can imagine some pretty fun things…"

Harry was about to question her further on what types of things she imagines when his stomach rumbled loudly.

"Hungry?"

"That would be a 'yes,' " he declared.

"I think Mum's got breakfast ready by now." She hopped up and offered Harry her hand. "You look like you'll need some help getting back."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." But he took her hand to help him up anyway.


	3. Sweat Saves Blood

**A/N**: It is important to note before reading this chapter that the large italicized sections are flashbacks that will help explain what is going on. If you get lost, it is part of this specific chapter, and just know that things will be explained. Enjoy the newest chapter of The Lord of Immortality:

* * *

**Chapter Two:**  
**Sweat Saves Blood**

"We can't wait any longer."

"I know. Arthur has informed me of his suspicions. If he's right, then we may already be too late."

"Yes, but we can still try…"

-0-0-0-

"_Expecto Patronum_!" Harry shouted. His energy started to evaporate as he felt the cold sting of death upon his face. The darkness of night was host to an infestation of Dementors, anxious to devour happiness, emotion, and soul. Harry was able to count thirty of the creatures now swarming around him. No more than five were even fazed by the boy's spell and only moments later, three of them had already returned. "_Expecto Patronum!_" But his attempts proved fruitless as the Dementors forced him to the ground and hovered above him. His face contorted in fear and his wand rendered unusable at his side, Harry felt the kiss of the Dementors tearing his soul from his body. The question on his mind wasn't whether he would die or not, no; instead, he wondered which Dementor would be the one to take his spirit away from him.

Because right now, they were fighting for it.

-0-**TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER**-0-

Harry sat at the edge of the bed, contemplating what the day before him could bring. He dressed quickly and made his way to the kitchen, where he was pleased to see the Weasley clan enjoying their breakfast.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, motioning to an empty seat at the table. "Please, sit and eat." Harry smiled and sat as instructed. Ron, who was seated next to him, had nearly finished what was on his plate already. Fred and George exchanged looks and chuckled, most likely sharing an inside joke. Mr. Weasley began talking about his job and how the Ministry had finally sacked Fudge. He explained how the new Minister was much more down-to-business than Cornelius had been. Then, unable to restrain himself, Mr. Weasley began discussing muggle "artifacts" with the table.

"Yesterday we received the most wonderful thing!" he declared after swallowing a piece of egg. "Harry, have you heard of the "compact disc?"

Ginny, who sat directly across from Harry, rolled her eyes and allowed a smirk to cross her lips. After addressing Mr. Weasley, Harry returned the gesture and continued to eat.

"Isn't Hermione supposed to be arriving soon?" Ron asked after devouring the last remnants of his breakfast.

"Actually, she should be here later today," Mrs. Weasley said. Ron perked up the slightest bit.

"That's cool," he said. "Well, I best tend to the gnomes. They've been bloody awful lately." Harry noticed a shade of pink bloom upon his cheeks and Ron left the table in a hurry.

"I have never seen Ronald that anxious to remove the gnomes," Mrs. Weasley said.

Harry wanted to grin, but didn't allow himself to. "No," he replied, "neither have I."

-0-0-0-

Later that afternoon, Hermione arrived, interrupting a game of wizard chess between Harry and Ron. As usual, Harry was losing, and was thankful for the intrusion.

"Blimey," Ron said. "What took you so long?"

"Dad. He got lost on our way here." She casually walked over to the two boys and gave them each a hug. "And of course Mum was of no help," Hermione continued. "She might as well have been reading the map upside down."

Harry amused himself with visions of Hermione and her muggle parents, trying to make their way to The Burrow. He could imagine Hermione rolling her eyes in the backseat as her dad made yet another wrong turn, her mom fumbling around with the map uselessly.

"Right, well, at least you're here now," Ron said sheepishly.

"Oh! How could I forget?" Hermione's expression changed from reproach to joy as she reached into her pocket. She produced a neatly folded white piece of paper that, once opened, revealed the scores of the O.W.L. exam Hermione had taken just last year. Neither Ron nor Harry had to look at the paper to know that Hermione had passed with flying colors.

Hermione beamed, but her smile faded when she recalled her Defense Against the Dark Arts grade. "It was the question about Cornelius Agrippa. I knew I shouldn't have chosen 'c.' " Harry shot Ron a look that said "she can't be serious."

"Well?" Hermione said, ignoring Harry. "Where are your scores, then?"

In fact, Harry and Ron showed little interest in their O.W.L. score reports and did not bother to ask Mrs. Weasley if they had arrived.

"Erm, I s'pose Mum has them." Ron was apprehensive, but eventually left Harry and Hermione alone while he went to hunt for the O.W.L.s by himself.

-0-0-0-

Upon entering the kitchen, Ron found his parents chatting fiercely with Mr. and Mrs. Granger who had, apparently, came in with Hermione ("Bishop to-" "Harry! Ron!" "Sh! I've nearly got him beat." "Ron, it's Hermione and her paren-" "It's quite alright, Harry. We'll just go in and see Molly, er, Mrs. Weasley." "Ron, you bloke!" "Checkmate!")

"So that's why-" But Mrs. Weasley was rudely interrupted by her youngest son, who decided to be quite abrupt with his question.

"Do you have our O.W.L.s?" he asked.

Mrs. Weasley, taken aback by Ron's audacity, was peeved. "Yes, Ronald," she barked. "And I am not impressed. You are lucky that we have guests here, otherwise…we'll discuss this later." She sauntered off to a pile of papers strewn carelessly on the table. Finding it difficult to locate the documents in question, Mrs. Weasley quickly gave up and muttered, "_Accio O.W.L.s._" Two papers shot out from the pile and landed neatly into her free hand. Pigwidgeon also flapped his way to her hand, and Mrs. Weasley realized her mistake. "Here. Take the scores and your bloody bird." Ron did as he was told and, as he left the kitchen, he could hear the giggles of the Grangers from behind him.

"So he can't say anything?!" Ron heard Hermione ask as he re-entered the room.

"Nope," Harry replied.

"Well, it's absolutely wonderful that he's back!" she exclaimed, but Ron knew that Hermione was a little saddened because she couldn't learn more about the Veil.

"Here they are," Ron announced. Harry and Hermione turned to see their friend standing close by, with two pieces of paper in his hand. Harry took his score report while Ron surveyed his own grades.

"Let's see it, then." Hermione pressured Ron, but he was reluctant to hand it over. "Come on, Ron. You couldn't have done_ that_ bad." He couldn't say 'no,' and hesitantly passed his scores to Hermione.

"Oh," she said after looking at it.

"I _wish_ I got an O." Ron's tone was melancholy at best.

"Don't worry, mate," Harry added reassuringly. "The only O I got was in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione looked surprised, but it just as quickly left her when she realized she was, after all, with Harry and Ron.

"So it seems as if we'll be taking a trip to the Ministry, then," Hermione said. After seeing the confused faces of her friends, she added, "To retake the O.W.L. exam, of course. You two can't seriously accept those grades, can you?" They simply shrugged. "But between the two of you, you've gotten a total of…" She scanned the two grade sheets. "5 Trolls! Don't worry, though, I'll go with you two. I need to improve my Defense Against the Dark Arts score."

Ron and Harry looked incredulous. "You can't be serious!" they said. But then they realized that they were, after all, referring to Hermione and that she was, in fact, very serious.

"I'm sure your dad can Apparate us there later today," Hermione said addressing Ron.

"Today?!"

"Of course. We have no time to waste, and the retake deadline is the end of the week anyway. Oh, don't look so worried, I'll help you study before we go." But Ron and Harry were not worried about the O.W.L. retake so much as they were for their friend's dissipating sanity.

Before they could argue, however, Hermione had already gone to fetch her books.

-0-0-0-

Emmanuel Towers gazed around his newly acquired office. He hadn't before realized how lavish the lifestyle of Minster was. Now, sitting in the opulent room as Minister of Magic himself, Emmanuel Towers understood that the perks ran aplenty. However, the perks could only be attained if the responsibilities were carried out. His brown eyes strayed to the paper resting on the solid oak table before him. The paper listed the duties required of the Minister for the month, but he only studied the week's tasks: preside over the Wyatt case and assist the Wizengamot in a ruling, overlook the Hogwarts students who wish to retake their O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams, consider petitioners who want the age of legal magic use outside of school to be lowered and make a statement regarding your decision…and the list went on. Towers recognized that his first week in office would be an easy one. He placed his hands behind his head and reclined in the leather backed chair he was sitting on.

Just as he was checking his watch, an unexpected rapping came from the door. "Yes?" he said. The heavy door creaked open and a man with three children entered the office. Towers was familiar with the red-haired man, an employee, Weasley. The girl looked unfamiliar and the boy was obviously Weasley's son. The last child, however, caught his attention the most. It was none other than Harry Potter, famous Harry Potter.

"Come in, come in," the Minister ushered. "What is it that you need?"

Arthur Weasley approached the man and said, "Yes, Minister. My son and his friends would like to retake their O.W.L.s. I'm afraid they didn't do as well as they would have liked."

"Ah, yes," Towers responded. "Just sign their names and I will assist them in a moment."

Arthur took the pen and paper offered to him and signed

_Ronald Weasley_

_Harry Potter_

_Hermione Granger _

"Wonderful." The Minister of Magic produced three seemingly identical booklets that the children knew were their exams. "I'm afraid you cannot stay, Mr. Weasley. The students must remain in my supervision while taking the test with no others present."

Arthur Weasley said, "Very well, then. Good luck kids!" He winked at them before exiting and they understood what that wink meant; it had nothing to do with the O.W.L.s. When Towers gave the okay, the three started working. Hermione, of course, was plowing ahead of the boys. Finally, she reached the question about Cornelius Agrippa and was careful to avoid choice 'c.' Thirty minutes later, when Ron arrived to the same question, he decided to leave it blank and move on, as he had for so many questions before it (in fact, when he had finished the test, nearly two thirds of the exam was left blank). Harry didn't really know how he was doing because he was too busy worrying about his job soon to come. Moments later, the time for action arrived.

"As you should know, the exams have a powerful Anti-Cheating Charm placed on them, so I highly suggest that you keep your eyes on your own page. I have to step out for a moment and I will return momentarily." And with that, the Minister left his office, leaving Hermione, Ron, and Harry alone.

-0-0-0-

"Good luck," Hermione whispered. With lightning speed, Harry whipped out his Invisibility Cloak and wrapped himself in it. Then, he began rummaging through the Minister of Magic's office.

_Harry, Hermione, and Ron approached Mr. Weasley later in the afternoon. It was Hermione who did the talking, though. "Would it be alright if you went with us to the Ministry so we could retake our O.W.L.s?" Hermione asked. _

_Mr. Weasley, who had just arrived home from work about an hour ago, appeared skeptical. "You must do this today?" he inquired. _

"

_Harry left to go to his room, mainly to escape the last-minute study efforts of Hermione. As he was getting settled, he heard a quick knock on the door. Thinking it would be Hermione, he opened the door unenthusiastically, but was surprised to see Mr. Weasley standing in the doorway instead. _

"_I didn't know whether I should come to you or not," he began. He gently made his way into the room and shut the door behind him. His voice was a stern whisper. "The other day at work, I accidentally overheard a conversation, Harry. The Minister had a visitor, but I don't know who it was or who it could have been. But what I heard…well, it wasn't very Minister-like." Mr. Weasley became very serious suddenly. "Let me just say that I have reason to believe the new Minister is corrupt." _

_Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked his best mate's dad. _

"

"_While you're taking your O.W.L., the Minister must be present. But I'm sure he'll have to leave his office sometime. You could take your Cloak, slip it on when he leaves, and search his office. That way, when he comes back, he won't catch you in the act. Hermione or Ron would simply say that you went to the bathroom." Mr. Weasley's somber eyes stared into Harry's. "If he becomes suspicious, Ron can leave to go look for you in the 'bathroom,' which is when you'll slip out the door with him and return together." _

"_Well, you really thought about this, huh?" Harry had never recalled Mr. Weasley being so forward or serious in his life. _

"_I can't force you to do this, Harry. But there's something very wrong going on, and this is the only way I can think to get to the bottom of things." _

_Harry couldn't think of a reason not to help. "Alright," he said. "I'll do it." _

And he did. In a closet in the back of the office, Harry found something that could back-up Mr. Weasley's suspicions. He pocketed the evidence, removed the Cloak, and resumed his test-taking. He had even managed all of this before Towers ever returned.

Approximately an hour later, the trio left the Ministry having finished all tasks required of them. Hermione felt confident that she had achieved a perfect score, Ron felt confident that he had achieved as many if not more Trolls than before, and Harry felt confident that the Ministry of Magic had, in fact, been infiltrated.

-0-0-0-

"So how'd it go?" Ginny asked Harry when they got back home.

At first, Harry thought she was talking about his covert operation, but quickly realized she was referring to the O.W.L. "Oh, it was fine."

She noticed his drooping eyelids and apathetic demeanor. "You look exhausted."

"That obvious, huh?"

Ginny looked around, and noticing everyone just lounging around, said, "Call it an early night, then. No one will miss you."

"Ha, ha." He smiled weakly and made his way to his room. The bed looked so warm and inviting that Harry instantly fell asleep upon lying down.

He dreamt that he was flying through nothingness, a great white expanse, and everything was blurry. And then _thud!_ He nearly felt the impact of his body hit the ground and he subconsciously noted the realistic nature of his dream. Images flashed on his retinas. A big, decrepit house. A hallway. Two tall figures. "You didn't forget, didja?" A door. And then, darkness.

He opened his eyes. He found himself on an isolated street; it was nighttime. He didn't know why, but he carried his wand in his hand. _What happened? _he thought. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep back at The Burrow. He had no clue how he got out here; he didn't even know where 'here' was.

Slowly, he brought himself to a standing position and looked around. He kept his wand ready at his side, in case he needed it. The silence of the night was eerie. "Hello?" he said. "Hello?!" No one responded. Harry walked cautiously down the road, unaware of his surroundings.

Then, without warning, a single Dementor appeared before him. The creature caught him off guard, but he managed a quick "_Expecto Patronum!" _The creature glided off. And then more. And more. Until he was surrounded by over thirty Dementors, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Harry felt the kiss of the Dementors tearing his soul from his body. The question on his mind wasn't whether he would die or not, no; instead, he wondered which Dementor would be the one to take his spirit away from him.

Because right now, they were fighting for it.

-0-0-0-

_Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black wore grim expressions from the conversation that had just taken place._

"_Albus, I fear the worst." Arthur Weasley's voice sounded strained and unsure. "It's Fudge's replacement. His name is Emmanuel Towers. Yesterday, I heard him talking to a man with a raspy voice. And they…" He paused. _

"_Go on, Arthur." Albus' calm voice was soothing to Mr. Weasley._

"_They were discussing the 'Dark Lord.' But their tone…it was as if they were supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

"_And what were they talking about?" _

_He told Dumbledore. "I see," Dumbledore replied, slightly unnerved. _

"_I asked Harry to investigate today when he, Hermione, and Ron went to retake their O.W.L.s. I know it was cowardly of me, to ask a kid to get involved. But I was scared, Dumbledore. I didn't think I had another choice."_

_Dumbledore attempted to pacify Arthur's anxiety. "I believe you did the right thing. Harry is a smart boy. He can handle the task you assigned to him. But I fear that if we do not act soon, the Ministry will fall." Dumbledore stopped to contemplate what he was saying. "The Order must be summoned immediately. Alert everyone you can, Arthur. I shall see you soon." _

"_We can't wait any longer," Sirius declared as he entered the room. "We must begin Harry's training immediately."_

"_Sirius." Dumbledore's face was sunken and pale. "Arthur has informed me of his suspicions. He fears that the Minister of Magic, Emmanuel Towers, has connections with Voldemort. If he's right, then we may already be too late."_

_Sirius understood the seriousness of the situation. "Yes, but we can still try…until the Order arrives, at least. We literally cannot do anything else. Harry needs us." _

_Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Then we must act now. Come." The old wizard left Grimmauld Place and Apparated with Sirius to the Burrow. They crept to Harry's room and found him asleep. Time was of the essence, so Dumbledore grabbed Harry's arm and performed Side-Along Apparition to get them back to Grimmauld Place in a hurry. When they landed on the doorstep, Sirius noticed Harry was still half-asleep. _

"_You didn't forget, didja?" his godfather said, regarding his training. Harry didn't respond. "Get the Room ready." Dumbledore knew that Sirius was referring to the Training Room, a Room created by Albus and Sirius in Grimmauld Place to help prepare Harry. It was similar to the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts, only Dumbledore could control what was inside. He chose program B for Harry's first lesson. _

"_The Room is ready," Dumbledore told Sirius._

"_Good." Sirius held Harry's still body and dragged him into the Room. _

"_You're not going to wake him?" Dumbledore asked._

_Sirius shook his head. "It'll teach him that anything can happen at any moment. In real time, he wouldn't see it coming. Think of it as a way of…sharpening his senses." _

_Dumbledore flicked his wand approvingly and program B began. The two elder wizards stood a distance away and watched as the boy encountered the Dementors. He tried using his Patronus, but it only stalled them. Sirius and Dumbledore continued to watch as more and more of the creatures descended upon Harry._

When the Kiss was about to be performed, however, Dumbledore interceded and muttered "_Finalio!_" and flicked his wand lightly. The program came to an abrupt end and the Room returned to its normal condition. Harry remained on the ground, motionless; his first training session ended in failure.

-0-0-0-

_Towers knew it was going to be risky, but he couldn't turn back now. The hardest part had already been completed: he had become Minister of Magic. _The rest should be much easier_, he thought. _

_Emmanuel thought wrong. _

_On only his second day as Minister, he was pleasantly surprised by an unexpected visitor. Before opening the door, Towers combed his fingers through his tangled black hair. The visitor was one Lucius Malfoy, as Towers discovered when he finally allowed the door to swing open. "Lucius!" the Minister exclaimed. "Come in, please. Sit." He motioned to the chair opposite his desk, but Lucius declined. _

"_I need to discuss a certain…business matter with you." _Forward as always_, Towers thought. "It concerns an event that transpired years ago, and this…" Malfoy, who remained standing, placed the object on the Minister's desk. _

"_Where did you find this?" Towers asked._

"_That is not of your immediate concern," Malfoy declared. "I didn't know who else to trust with it. You and I have known each other a long while, now. I can trust you, yes?"_

"_Of course," Towers said. "Of course."_

_The two men sharing a personal conversation were unaware of the other man, who was unwillingly part of the conversation as well. Arthur Weasley was sent to deliver a relatively unimportant message to the Minister when he overheard the men talking inside the office._

"_Good. If that lands in the wrong hands, Emmanuel…"_

"_It won't!" he countered. "I will protect the Dark Lord's secret. There's no safer place than the Minister of Magic's office. Only I will have full access." _

_Lucius failed to point out that Gringott's was the safest place, but he didn't bother to get into it. "If, by chance, it _has _been stolen…well, that's between you and Him." He turned to leave, but Towers stopped him. _

"_And what about this event, that you say happened years ago?" The question was posed innocently enough, but Lucius' blood began to boil with rage. He gripped his Slytherin cane with an inhuman strength._

"_It was a ritual," he said, knowing that Voldemort hated that term. "A man's life was sacrificed for the well-being of another."_

"_So it was for the greater good?" _

_Lucius considered the question. "No," he finally answered. "There was nothing good about it." He turned to leave and when Arthur heard the man's footsteps approaching the door, he quickly hid around the corner. What he overheard haunted the rest of his day. _

-0-0-0-

Emmanuel Towers retreated to his office. The Wyatt case proved more demanding than he had anticipated. "Bloody Wizengamot," he muttered. He opened the top drawer of his desk and reached in, producing a small bottle of whiskey. He drank straight from the bottle. He checked his watch to see that it was nearly 11:30 at night. Towers set the bottle of alcohol on his desk, put his hands behind his head, and lounged in his office chair. He realized that his hair matched his day: messy and out of control.

Emmanuel glanced around his office, his eyes falling on his closet door. He thought about what was inside and decided that it wouldn't hurt to make sure that it was still there, safe and sound. He strutted over to the closet and pulled it open and instantly, a terror gripped him that he had never felt before in his entire life. Every cell on his body felt a different emotion: rage, guilt, anxiety, and horror were the most widespread.

His hand, his face, his arm turned pale. He felt a cold rush through him like a disease. His pupils dilated and he couldn't move. _But I have to,_ he managed to tell himself. _I must tell Him immediately. _

Towers slowly rolled down his sleeve, fingers numb, brain clouded. He grabbed his wand from atop his desk and gently pressed it to the Dark Mark located on the inside of his arm; he summoned Lord Voldemort.

He was absolutely terrified of the punishment he was sure to receive.

But there was no turning back now.

* * *

**A/N: Part Two** - I hope you liked the latest installment! Please let us know what you liked/disliked/loved/hated/laughed at/puked at/adored/despised, and so on, so we can (hopefully) improve our writing! Chapter Three will be finished soon, we promise…D 


	4. Genuine Ingenuity

**A/N:** Thank you to those who reviewed, and we'd love to hear some feedback from others. As the plot has now thickened, we expect you to be so engrossed by this story that you cannot wait to drop a note asking a question and seeking an answer. ;)

Enjoy! (And yes, that's an order.)

* * *

**Chapter Three:  
****Genuine Ingenuity**

"Her name is Julia Lavier."

"She is French?"

"Her father is, yes. She is the newest Death Eater, and has risen to the Inner Circle as fast as any I've seen."

"What has to be done?"

"You see, she is an unknown Death Eater, so she is still living her life normally, as if she isn't part of the war. She's the owner of the popular and expensive clothing shop in London. We aren't even positive she _is_ a Death Eater, and I don't want to take out an innocent person. I'd be no better than the Ministry."

"Again, what has to be done?"

"It's a 'two birds, one stone' type of thing. We need information out of her office that we can't get into, and if we get this information, Professor Snape will no longer be questioned as traitor, for we will have obtained information in a different way."

"I see."

"Actually, I just thought of a third bird."

"Same stone?"

"Yes. When Voldemort realizes she has lost this information, we will have one less Death Eater in the world. He won't be happy with her."

"He would kill her?"

"He _is_ Lord Voldemort."

-0-0-0-

His hair was kempt and brown, his face void of scar and glasses, but complete with light facial hair, and his robes as fine as any in Britain as he walked three inches taller through the streets of London. He came to a stop outside of a shop that muggles could not see, a sign above naming it simply _Robes_. In the glass outside the shop, he quickly looked at himself. Sirius was right. He was no longer Harry Potter.

_Just use your instinct_, he had been told.

Harry entered the shop, taking in everything while he waved his wand, changing him into wizarding clothes, robes, as was custom when entering a wizarding shop. The shop was not large, but it was in no way small. Robes were everywhere on display, some on mannequins, others floating magically in the air. There were four workers in the shop, each helping costumers. There were three doors along the back wall, and instantly—instinctively—Harry knew which door led to Julia Lavier's office.

Harry continued to look around and saw a sign. It read:

Luis Christians  
Exclusive Designer to _Robes_

The sign gave a brief summary of Luis Christians, his history, and a picture of the designer.

As Harry gazed around, he reflected on his summer thus far. It had been nearly a month since he had gone to the Burrow. In the first couple weeks he had stolen a piece of evidence that resulted in the minister suspiciously disappearing, which then led to him being canned. The Order had yet to discover anything about his disappearance.

Now, Harry was on yet another stealth mission. Though, as Sirius had put it, "_There's a lot more finesse required in this one, so be alert."_

His training had vastly improved since his first encounter in the room Dumbledore had created. That had been unexpected, and rather disastrous. But Harry had to admit he was improving with regular lessons from his godfather, and less regular instruction from Dumbledore. Harry shook his head out of his reverie.

The woman had just come out of her office, and Harry instantly looked busy, examining the most expensive robes, looking at them in apparent interest, but never looking at the prices. He noticed that almost every one he examined was from designer Luis Christians. He studied Julia from afar. She was a pretty thirty-something, with blonde hair, wearing the finest robes her store had to offer.

The woman also looked around the store, examining every customer, until her eyes fell on Harry. She smiled and began walking toward him.

Harry acted surprised as she spoke from behind him. "Can I help you, sir? My name is Julia Lavier."

_Instinct._

Harry didn't know why, but he adopted an American accent. "No thank you, I'd just like to look for myself if that's alright."

The Death Eater walked away, smiling. Harry knew as he continued to look at the finer robes that her eyes were glued to him. So after several minutes, he turned around and motioned for her to come to him.

"Actually, I'm looking for robes for my girlfriend." Again, Harry didn't know why he said this, but he did know that he was no longer Harry Potter. He was an American now, who had a girlfriend who liked very expensive and fine robes. "And I thought while I was here on business I would get her some British robes."

Julia smiled, quite falsely, Harry noticed, as the smile did not touch her eyes. "Well, from what I've seen, you have great taste. What is your price—"

"There is no range. I've really liked these robes designed by Christians. He knows what he's doing."

Harry knew he was doing well as the pride showed obviously on Julia's face. "Yes, I signed him here myself. Right out of Hogwarts."

Harry continued for a moment, pointing out the robes he liked, as well as a shoulder bag. Then, improvising, he yawned. "Are you tired, sir?"

"Martin Johnson," Harry said, holding out his hand. "And yes. With your ministry's recent added protection, I had to come here by way of muggle airplane. It was the worst experience of my life. How muggles live, I'll never know."

The saleswoman smirked and said, "Can I get you anything? Water?"

"Anything a bit stronger?"

"Come with me." She flicked her wand at the items that 'Martin' had chosen, including three sets of robes and a shoulder bag, which streamed ahead. They came to a rest on a table at the front of the store.

Harry couldn't believe this. He was being led into her office. He was a man running through an unfamiliar jungle, but knowing how to get out anyway. _We need information out of her office that we can't get into, _Dumbledore had said. Harry had gotten into the office on sheer instinct alone. He hadn't had a plan, aside from changing his appearance.

Julia stuck her hand on her office door, and the door seemed to notice her touch, and it opened. They stepped inside, and Harry again took everything in. He saw three places where the information Dumbledore was talking about could be: the bottom right desk drawer, the chest in the back corner, and on top of the shelving unit. How he knew this, he did not know.

_Instinct._

Julia began pouring a drink, and Harry reached down for his pocket. Before Harry knew what was happening, the drink she had been pouring crashed to the ground, and her wand was out, trained on Harry. Harry froze. "Easy, Ms. Lavier. I'm just reaching for my galleon bag to pay for this drink." He pulled out his bag out of the pocket he had been reaching for, while also revealing that his wand was on the other side of his body, in the other pocket. "I understand these are hard times in Britain. I'm sorry if I frightened you."

He knew at that moment he had gained the trust of the owner of _Robes_ whom he also knew, now, to be a Death Eater. She began to get flustered and spoke quickly. "I am so sorry, Mr. Johnson. You are right; I'm just jumpy in these…strange times. And don't worry about the drink." She waved her wand. The glass repaired itself and the drink flowed back into the glass. She held it out to him.

"It's no problem, and thanks for the drink."

For several minutes, they both drank and talked small talk. "So, your girlfriend must be a redhead. Every one of those robes is meant for a red hair."

Harry did not know this; he had just chosen them on impulse. "Oh, yes. Of course."

Harry finished his drink and Julia asked him if he wanted more.

"No, this was great. Thank you."

She stood. "Let me bring your things in." And she left her office, leaving Harry alone with the information on Death Eater activity.

Having counted his steps from the table to her office, Harry knew he had less than two minutes to search her office. He instantly summoned a ladder and climbed up to get a look above the shelves. On the top rested four pieces of parchment. Looking at each one semi-carefully, Harry ascertained that they were merely numbers for her quarterly sales.

Quickly vanishing the ladder, Harry moved behind her desk and went to open the bottom right drawer. It was locked. Whipping out his wand he cast _Alohamora_ and surprisingly, the drawer unhitched and he opened it. Quickly, he rifled through the files, before coming on something concrete. There was information on a Death Eater attack on a muggle town.

It was then that he heard a hand on the door, and he knew he had but a few moments.

He sprung into action, doing several things at once. He shoved the parchment into his robes, leapt over the desk while shutting the drawer and casting a simple locking charm on it, and shoved his wand back in his pocket as he landed back in his chair. The door swung open a fraction of a second later and Julia walked in holding robes, a shoulder bag, and a piece of parchment which he realized was his receipt.

-0-0-0-

Julia walked into the room right as Martin was sitting back down. She was _sure_ the American was who he said he was. But she couldn't help but worry that he was a spy. She would have to check him.

First, he took the shoulder bag and slung it around his shoulder. He took the receipt and pulled out his galleon bag. He hunched over the wallet and sifted through it. After a few seconds, he extracted the correct amount and paid her. "Thank you for your wonderful service and the drink." He reached out to take the robes from her, but as he did so, Julia made the decision to make sure he didn't take anything. She pulled open his robes.

-0-0-0-

_He hunched over the wallet, sifting through it with one hand while pulling the parchment out of his robes and sliding it into his shoulder bag. After a few seconds, he extracted the correct amount, and paid her._

"Is there a problem?" Harry asked, angrily, motioning towards his robes, which had just been ripped open, revealing his muggle apparel underneath, but nothing else—no incriminating and stolen parchment.

She had gotten flustered again. "No, there's no problem. I just wanted to see if you wanted some other clothes, besides robes. You know, because you are going back into muggle London. I wanted to know if you wanted a change from those." She motioned towards his muggle attire underneath his robes.

Harry softened his expression. "No, I'm fine. Thank you again."

Harry exited the shop after changing out of his robes and exhaled a breath. Suddenly, muggle London changed, and he was standing in a room with Dumbledore and Sirius. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling madly, and Sirius gazed at Harry in awe.

"How'd I do?"

-0-0-0-

"It would appear," said Dumbledore, "that Harry would have done very well for himself in Slytherin."

Harry scowled at his headmaster, but Dumbledore simply chuckled. "Come now, Harry. I'm not saying you would be a Dark wizard, just that you are rather good at deceiving and sneaking round."

Sirius laughed. "So James and I would've done well there, too?"

Harry then smiled and sat down with his trainers. Dumbledore spoke up once more. "We may have to call on you even when you are in Hogwarts for any covert operations we need done." Dumbledore was mostly joking, but he couldn't help but recognize that Harry was indeed a skilled wizard. In just two weeks of training, he had already improved more than Dumbledore had dreamed possible. After his first training session, the boy seemed to become more determined than Dumbledore had seen anyone be. He applied himself to everything he was taught, and did everything he could to learn and grow from it.

Even as Dumbledore thought this, Harry pulled out his wand, and worked more on simple wordless casting. It took all of sixth year for most students to learn just the basics of spell work without words. And by Harry's birthday, he would be able to do what his classmates would come next June.

"Sirius," Dumbledore whispered to the man. "Could you excuse us for a moment? In a few minutes you may come back and duel him, or whatever you deem necessary."

Sirius frowned, but nodded. He stood up to leave and Dumbledore addressed Harry.

"That object you stole from Towers. Do you know anything about it?"

"Just enough to know that it was incriminating. And that it's related to Death Eaters."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, according to Arthur, a Death Eater gave the Minister this object, an enchanted snake-shaped chest. This Death Eater in question was relating the object to a ritual that took place many years ago that involved Voldemort."

"A ritual? Do you know what it could've been for?"

"I have many ideas, though the most probable would be a ritual to grant Voldemort immortality."

Harry's mouth dropped a fraction. "Voldemort spoke about becoming immortal…"

"Which is exactly why I believe this to be the key."

"What does the snake have to do with it?" Harry asked, confused. He looked like he was trying to come up with the answer himself but was having trouble coming up with anything.

"I have been…toying…with the snake for a while, trying to learn of its importance." Dumbledore paused. "You remember the Pensieve in my office, Harry?" Harry nodded and his headmaster continued. "Well, I have come to the conclusion that the snake contains a memory, and it functions much like the Pensieve. It's almost like a...portable version of it."

"A portable Pensieve?" Harry said questioningly. "But what is the memory? Have you seen it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I have tried everything I know, yet I have been unable to extract the memory."

Harry looked lost once more. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "These are all assumptions now, what I am going to tell you. Arthur said the Death Eater sounded bitter about the ritual, like he lost something rather than gained anything as a result of it. My guess is that this Death Eater wanted the memory of the ritual preserved, probably in case he died. Therefore, he stored the memory in the snake figure, which he most likely asked Voldemort to create; I can't imagine any other wizard being able to make such a thing, myself included." Harry couldn't help but notice a bit of admiration in his tone. Harry knew Dumbledore didn't admire Voldemort; he admired Voldemort's abilities as a wizard, but not what Voldemort did with those abilities. "I'm also very sure that the snake chest has a key, which this Death Eater no doubt held on to. That way, no one could get to the memory without both parts, the key _and_ the chest. He figured this was a safe way to protect the memory inside."

Harry shook his head a little. "So, there is a memory of a ritual in the portable Pensieve snake chest that I stole. But this chest has a key, which we don't have, but rather an unknown Death Eater has it. So why would Voldemort even make this snake for the Death Eater if it would hold the answers we need to kill him?"

"Well, I'm sure he had no idea what it was really for. I just can't see anyone but him creating that complex of an object. Everything that I did to extract that memory failed."

Harry seemed to be catching up with the conversation. "So Towers thought he was holding on to this chest for Voldemort, but really it was for the Death Eater?"

Dumbledore pondered this. "Yes, but I think that Voldemort thought Towers was holding on to the snake for him, too. This Death Eater had to have tricked Voldemort as well as Towers. This would explain Towers' disappearance. He is either on the run, dead, or being tortured as we speak."

"So, Voldemort thinks that vital information on his plans, or something like that, has been stolen. Towers thinks the same thing, and is being punished for letting it happen. And this Death Eater has the key to get the memory out of the snake. The bottom line?"

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Bottom line? We need the name of this Death Eater and, most importantly, the key in his possession."

-0-0-0-

Harry flopped down on the couch after a dizzyingly tiring training session with Sirius. After weeks of running every morning, he had gotten into great shape, being able to endure a lot of physical activity. Ginny couldn't even make fun of him anymore. Well, not about that, anyway. However, when he dueled Sirius, the combination of mental, physical, and magical strain drained Harry of his strength and energy.

Luckily, he was rewarded to see that Sirius hadn't even made it to a couch to fall onto for a rest, but instead hit the ground where he had been standing, and groaned loudly into the floor. If Harry had the energy to laugh, he would have.

After several minutes, the two sat up, and exchanged compliments and ways to improve fighting. "Listen, Harry. If you had the knowledge I have, you would beat me, wands down. You have more speed and agility than I could dream of. We'll continue to duel, but I think we now need to work on expanding your spellcabulary and wand technique."

"Spellcabulary?" Harry asked, doubtful. "You're just making up words now."

"I'm tired!" Sirius shouted indignantly. "Anyway, I'll talk with Dumbledore. I'm sure he'd be better at teaching you wand technique than me. I can teach you some more spells, though, and I'll leave you to work on them."

They both went silent for a moment.

"We'll start tomorrow," Sirius said.

"Sounds great," Harry said, a little too quickly.

-0-0-0-

Harry arrived at the Burrow and decided to stay outside for a while, and enjoy the cooling evening air. He walked over to a tree, leaned up against it, and closed his eyes. He heard someone nearing him, and he cracked one eye open.

It was Ginny, and she had a smirk on her face. "Is Harry tired again?" she asked in a mock sorry tone.

Harry opened his mouth to retort with something clever, but nothing came. So he decided to go with a simple, "Yes."

She sat down next to him. "So, what'd you do today?"

It was a game they played. He didn't like talking about his training in detail, and she knew this, so she grudgingly settled for vague answers. But it didn't stop her from asking the question daily.

"This and that."

"Sounds intriguing," Ginny said, a smile on her lips.

"Doesn't it, though?" After a brief period of silence, Harry added, "How was your day?"

"You know, that is a good question." She then hit Harry on the arm, a little harder than he would've expected…or preferred.

"Hey!" Harry said, holding his arm pitifully, pretending to moan in pain. "What was that for?" he whined.

"_That_ was for leaving me with Ron and Hermione…again! You need to tell Dumbledore and Sirius to leave you here a couple days a week. Please, for my sanity! Those two won't stop going at it."

"So nothing's happened yet?" Harry asked, laughing a bit.

Ginny sighed. "Those two will dance around each other until they're Dumbledore's age. So to answer your question, no, nothing has happened yet."

Harry laughed harder, and then clutched his stomach. He was sore, and it hurt to laugh. Ginny seemed to pick up on this and made it her personal mission to make him laugh as much as possible, telling him about Fred and George's latest invention, and their use of it in Ron's general direction.

"You're mean, Weasley, you know that?" Harry said, holding his stomach painfully.

"You deserve it, training all day and leaving me here with them."

"Hey, I'd rather be here with you than killing myself dueling Sirius." Harry opened his eyes and looked sharply in Ginny's direction. Ginny was smirking, accomplished.

"I knew you would tell me eventually! Of course, I assumed it was something like that anyway."

Harry wasn't convinced. "Sure you did."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "Well what else would you be doing?"

Harry thought of the Training Room and Julia Lavier. "Nothing, I guess."

Ginny's smile faded at the lack of conviction in his voice. "Okay, you _have_ to tell me what else you do! I have to know, now!"

Harry couldn't believe it. "What do you mean? I already told you."

"You told me one thing you did. I can tell when you're lying, Harry. It is so obvious you aren't telling me something."

"You're calling me a liar, now?" Harry asked, acting hurt and trying to divert the conversation.

And Harry knew that Ginny knew he was trying to distract her. But she decided to respect Harry's decision not to be bugged about it, and played along. "So what if I am?" she asked with a slight smile.

-0-0-0-

"Well, Ronald Weasley, you're just being stupid now. Of course you use two different knives to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!" Hermione huffed and went up the stairs, not quite believing she had been arguing about that. And yet amidst her anger being shown as she stormed up the stairs to Ginny's room, there was the slightest bit of amusement and endearment.

She arrived at Ginny's room and lay down on her bed. She glanced out the window to see that Harry had gotten back and that Ginny was with him, both leaning against a tree. They were both laughing and appeared to be having a good time. Hermione smiled to herself before her thoughts wandered back to Ron downstairs.

It was then that there came a tentative knock at the door. "Come in," she said impatiently. It was Ron. He was holding two plates with sandwiches on them.

"I uh…made you…er…this sandwich," he said before quickly adding, "and I did it with two knives, too!"

Hermione couldn't believe it. "Ron, you didn't have to…"

"No, we went down to eat before we got into that ridiculous argument. I guess it was my fault…so here." He held out the plate.

"Thank you, Ron," was all she could say. They ate in silence for a moment. "You know," she said awkwardly, "it was both of our faults, I suppose."

"Yeah."

Ron had finished his sandwich by the time he spoke again. "When did Harry get back?"

Hermione looked up to see him looking out the window. "Oh, Ron, leave them alone."

"Leave who alone? I just wondered when he got here!" It was possible that he wasn't upset his best mate and sister were spending a lot of time together, flirting too. It was possible that he just wanted to know when Harry got home.

Hermione sighed, knowing she could easily avoid getting into another argument. But she couldn't help herself. "Don't act like you simply wondered when he got home."

Ron rolled his eyes before his retort.

-0-0-0-

"I still can't believe it was stolen!" Lucius Malfoy still sounded angry, even after two weeks had passed.

Narcissa shushed him. "Draco could hear you!"

And she was right. Their son, Draco Malfoy, was lingering just outside of their bedroom with extendable ears he had recently purchased from Weasley Wizard Wheezes. He had noticed his father was upset. In hopes of getting some answers, he had bought the ears and been listening in on his parents before they fell asleep. A couple nights he had to reel in the ears very, very quickly...

But tonight, he was hopeful. Something had been stolen. He was getting some answers.

"Don't you get it?" he persisted. "It was probably Dumbledore's lackeys. They could have that memory!"

"But you have the key, Lucius. There's nothing to worry about. The Dark Lord made that safe."

Draco was lost, but continued listening in hopes of piecing it together.

Lucius scoffed. "The Dark Lord. Oh, how I despise that monster. It's his fault, Narcissa. Don't you get that?"

"We have Draco." She pushed back a loose strand of hair. Her voice sounded strained as she asked, "Aren't you happy about that?"

Draco suddenly went still, still not understanding what was going on.

"Of course I am. But we wanted a family, not just an heir." His anger was apparent. "The_ Dark Lord_ changed that."

His mother's voice was soft, soothing. "Listen. You are back to normal now. Just because he changed you all those years ago does not mean it's that way now."

Draco's head was spinning. He recalled his entire life. He was spoiled, taught the Dark ways, but was never truly loved by his father. He was simply an heir. However, in the last few weeks, his father had gone out of his way to make his son happy. Not satisfied, or given what he wanted. But rather, he felt love from his father for the first time.

The Dark Lord had done something to Lucius. Changed him, made him incapable of love. And for the first time, Draco decided he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps to become a Death Eater. He did not want to follow the wizard he now saw as evil.

Just then Draco heard something in his parents' room and quickly reeled in the ear, both afraid he would get caught, and afraid he would hear things he would regret hearing.

-0-0-0-

Sirius clambered out of the fireplace and brushed himself off. "So, how'd it go today?" he was asked.

He moved into the chair across from the headmaster of Hogwarts and let out a long breath. "I'm older than I thought I was."

Dumbledore let out a chuckle. "Yes, I am often reminded of my age. I have a mirror, you see."

Sirius ignored the man. "Harry is getting good. Fast."

"Yes, I knew he would. His determination is unmatched, and the young man seems to have natural skill on top of that."

Sirius nodded. "If he knew as much magic as I do, he'd already surpass my own skills. I can hardly keep up with him, he's so fast. I can rarely hit him with anything."

"I am told he's been exercising in the mornings before he meets with you."

"And he still has the energy to fight like that?" Sirius asked incredulously. He again thought of his age, as well as his many long years in Azkaban. Sure, he had an excuse for being a little weak, and he didn't know as much as some due to those years out of his life. Then again, he knew plenty more about Dark Arts from the mumblings of mad mages than most.

Sirius spoke up again. "Anyway, he needs to know more, rather than to fight more. He's a natural at that, though he seems a little lax in the academic department."

"He's never excelled at anything other than Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, if he stays as determined in his studies as he is in his other training, I believe that will turn around fully. He has more potential than he knows."

"So," Sirius said, "you plan on teaching him everything?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You must know, especially from me, that it is very important to know how to fight with more than simple hexes and shields."

Sirius nodded. It was true. He had seen Dumbledore fight without ever casting a shield charm, yet come out very much unscathed. It was remarkable how the man fought, and as he thought about it, he could see Harry fighting just like it in just a short time.

"How much potential does Harry have, then?"

"Although he will not know quite as much as me, I presume that by the end of the year, he will be nearly as powerful as me."

-0-0-0-

Voldemort gazed down at Emmanuel Towers. "I believe you have suffered enough?"

The man crawled slowly and painfully to his knees. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort sneered at the man. "You do realize that that memory held our attack plans for the next two weeks?"

"I am sorry, My Lord. I will never be so careless again. I will do exactly as you say, always."

Voldemort hardly heard a word he said. "I had to cancel all the plans I made. All the plans I spent my very valuable time making!" He began to get angry again.

"I am so sorry my Lord!" He let out a strangled sob.

"I've determined that another week of regular torture will do you well."

"No, my Lord. Please!"

His words were lost as he let out a scream.


End file.
